


In the Arms Of Another

by flamingosarepink



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23240152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingosarepink/pseuds/flamingosarepink
Summary: You are hiding something from me, he remembers a moment from long ago in the relative secrecy of yet another hotel room in yet another foreign country. Pierre’s voice had been confident despite not speaking above a whisper, a false sense of security. Charles, I’ve known you long enough to know that you are a very bad liar.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	In the Arms Of Another

**Author's Note:**

> I want to preface this by saying that I hope everyone is doing alright in this moment that we all find ourselves in. My thoughts and love are with all of you.
> 
> Title is taken from the song Exit Wounds by Placebo.

An early morning sunbeam finds its way into the otherwise darkened bedroom through the space where the curtains do not touch, and while the brightness of it doesn’t wake Pierre it just so happens that it wakes Charles.

By some feat of ingenuity he manages to reluctantly pry himself from Pierre’s arms and tangled legs, ever so gently swinging his own over the side of the bed before rising to his feet wearily. He walks towards the window to close the curtains with some level of satisfaction at the room being dark enough again. However, once he finds himself back in the comforts of the warm covers and with the sight of Pierre seemingly at peace in slumber next to him that same peace does not seem to regard him favorably.

As the minutes that could be spent sleeping if such a thing were possible tick by, Charles grows more restless. The kind of thoughts he normally finds easy to keep at bay flood into his immediate awareness.

Until suddenly, he feels _so called out._

It is almost as if by finding himself in this picturesque scenario that his inner most thoughts dare to remind him what exactly he stands to lose as a result of the myriad of actions done by himself and the thought alone makes something inside of him ache. The part of him that dares to rebel asks the kind of questions that make this some what worse. 

_Since when have you ever felt guilty about anything and why start now? Why does he matter THIS much to you? Let him leave. Let him leave, and let him find someone else. When have you ever actually cared about what anyone thinks about you?_

Pierre is not just anyone, nor has he ever been. 

Pierre has never been anything but understanding, and even at his worst was far kinder and loving than Charles knows he probably deserves. Rescuing him out of clubs and caring for him the next day only to cook his dinner too. Walking past Max in the crowded chaos of a pre-race morning and greeting him with as courteous of a greeting as he could manage. However, at some point even he had met his limit and let it ring through Charles’s ears in the form of a slammed front door. 

The sound rang through Charles’s ears far longer than the actual act itself, along with the memory of how the look in Pierre’s eyes had gone from unexplainable heartbreak to a kind of anger Charles didn’t know he could possess.

§

_“There is someone else, isn’t there?” Max says knowingly as he steps back into his jeans before locating his shirt, laying on the floor where it was discarded the night before. Charles gazes back at him with that typical look of fearlessness, but with the opposite emotion reflecting back in his eyes. Max could easily name names and make this whole thing infinitely worse than it has to be and Charles isn’t entirely sure where this sudden rush of compassion seems to be coming from. “How do you know?” Charles says defiantly, sitting back against his pillows. “It’s the look in your eyes. You’re lost and you don’t want to admit it to yourself.” An air of silence stands between them as Max zips up his hoodie halfway before he turns to look at Charles again. “My advice to you is to get your shit together before you have bigger problems than us fucking each other behind his back.”_

§

Pierre stirs and whatever thoughts Charles had cease to exist at least, for the moment as if somehow upon awakening Pierre would be able to read his mind just from sheer force of will alone. As if he could read Charles with the greatest of ease as Charles is all too aware he can, far more knowing than people give him credit for. _You are hiding something from me,_ he remembers a moment from long ago in the relative secrecy of yet another hotel room in yet another foreign country. Pierre’s voice had been confident despite not speaking above a whisper, a false sense of security. _Charles, I’ve known you long enough to know that you are a very bad liar._

When Pierre doesn’t awaken because of too loud thoughts, part of Charles feels relieved just from the shame of it all. 

But on the other side of things part of him relaxes at the reality of his situation. 

Things could be so much worse.

Pierre could never have allowed him back into his life. Perhaps, he could have dared to see someone else who wasn’t nearly as insatiable as Charles. He could have never forgiven him as much as he seems to have done, or moved back into their flat. The two of them could not be here together in the familiar comfort of their bed.

Someone like Pierre is simply too important to lose. 

Relaxation becomes stillness, and Charles feels drowsy. The warmth of the Frenchman near him is a comfort that he surrenders himself to without thought, and sleep once again overtakes him easily. 

§

Pierre doesn’t make sleeping until noon a habit quite so often, but the extra sleep he usually isn’t afforded during the course of a busy season of racing is a small luxury he finds himself indulging in during the off season. With the quietest of sighs his eyes open, coming into focus. The cream color of the walls. The crown molding adorning the ceiling. The baroque looking clock on the wall, which reads fifteen minutes past twelve. Various pictures of Charles and himself a top the dresser, memories from various moments over the years. Pierre supposes that he was always bound to come back to Charles in some variation. What they have is not something easily cast away no matter the indiscretion, as painful and numerous as Charles’s have been. 

The sight of Charles sleeping next to him with more peace than Pierre has ever seen and hair mussed, is a sight that makes a soft smile bloom on Pierre’s face with such a quickness that he is almost unaware of it. 

Ever so softly, Pierre leans to press the gentlest of kisses to his forehead.

Everything is as it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> _In the arms of another who doesn't mean anything to you  
There's nothing much to discover  
Does he shake, does he shiver as he sidles up to you  
Like I did in my time?  
As you wake does he smother you in kisses long and true?  
Does he even think to bother?  
And at night under covers as he's sliding into you  
Does it set your sweat on fire?_


End file.
